My family immigrated to Toronto, Canada from Seoul, Korea when I was nine years old. I remember the plane ride well. It was Japanese Airlines.

It is no secret that the Reformed tradition can take shape in forms that are deeply sectarian, provincial, and polemical. But if we were to

The canoe glides like wind From marsh out into freer water Remote pink forest melds slowly Into close wall of green. The opaque lake borrows

River skimmed with ice, white birch limbs swinging as birds launch toward blue sky Conifer fragrance as the wind blows, scattering. . . grave plots

Down in the church basement, we’re sitting in the lady minister’s office, the nine of us. Pilgrims, Claudette calls us, herself included. Claudette is the

“Shame on you.” And then he walked away. I am stunned, and something inside me breaks. The people continue to stream out the sanctuary door.

These days, when appearing at events where I am scheduled to speak, I am often asked whether any hymns will be quoted. I think it

As I look out of my office window, I see sky and the tops of trees. That’s because a foot of snow sits on the

Last summer I moved from Wheaton, Illinois, to Ann Arbor, Michigan, from a city with no synagogues and a nearly invisible Jewish population to a